The Pirate's New Clothes
by Tandy
Summary: Emma's first instinct had always been to run. Rated M just in case. One-shot.


Warning: Un-beta'd; read at your own risk.

* * *

Emma stayed closed to the fitting rooms as he went inside to try on the clothes she had picked out for him. The store on main street was tiny, and although it didn't offer much in the way of fashion, it would have to do for now. He couldn't very well be walking around town in his leather getup if he was staying permanently. Which he had assured her that he was.

"Swan, I need help with this blasted contraption-what did you call it? The zip?"

Emma rolled her eyes. The man might be reformed from his villainous ways but she doubted he would ever abandon his, as he put it, dashing rapscallion persona. She smiled at the rack of clothes in front of her. More like smarmy pirate, she thought, with warmth. Either way, he was all hers, or so he claimed.

"Love, it looks dangerous to-ah, certain parts of my anatomy. Why don't you come in here to lend me a hand?"

"You have two now, I'm sure you can manage."

"You're a cruel woman, Swan."

Still smiling, she swallowed the giggle that threatened to erupt. Emma Swan, mother, Sheriff, Savior, adult woman of thirty did not giggle. It was harder and harder to keep her face straight with his constant barrages of flirtation, innuendos and lewd comments. It was harder still to keep her heart beating at a normal rate around him. Not only was she developing a giggling habit, but she also feared her face would remain eternally flushed in his presence. God, he made her feel so... there were no words to describe it.

Before there had always been distractions, Henry to save, villains intent on destroying her life, the town. His charms, though considerable had been blunted by the desperation of trying to be the Savior. Now everyone was safe, and they had several weeks of relative quiet. There were no distractions anymore, nothing to dull the hot looks he sent her, nothing to take her focus away from the mass of feelings swirling in her gut.

She heard the dressing room door swing open. Emma turned around, her smile falling from her face at the sight of him. She started at his feet which were bare, and the sight for some reason made her blush. It was somehow very intimate. She tore her eyes away from his toes, perused upward, to the black denim clad legs. It was similar enough to his normal leather pants that it didn't make her pause. The shirt was blood red, made of silk, and probably to his chagrin displayed none of the usual amount of chest hair. He looked good, and he knew it, judging from the confident set of his lips and the way that damnable eyebrow rose. The man was almost too pretty to look at.

She could feel the heat radiating from her face. Unfortunately all she could do was gape at him. Her stomach gave a lurching flip at the way his lips stretched into a cocky smile. Suddenly, it became a little harder to breathe. Emma's mouth suddenly went dry. She licked her lips.

"Well then?"

Killian Jones, dressed in modern clothes with both hands firmly attached. It struck her how normal he looked. How normal _this_ was. Shopping with her-_boyfriend- _picking out his outfits. He was no longer Captain Hook, villain, reformed or otherwise. The absurdity of dating a cartoon character had always lent a sense of surrealism to her thoughts about them. Never mind that she was Snow White and Prince Charming's daughter or that she shared a son with the Evil Queen who was engaged to Robin Hood.

She was dating Captain Hook. Most days the thought made her giggle, or wrinkle her nose in wonderment, but as much as she tried, it was always hard to take it completely serious. Captain Hook loved her and she, the savior, loved him back. It hadn't seemed real, not truly. Not this time. Not now. He was real. It was real. And he was starting to look at her with concern.

"Swan?"

"I have to go. Sheriff's office called me."

"I didn't hear your telephone ring." He scrounged his face in that horribly adorable way of his.

"I had it on vibrate. I have to go."

She didn't wait to hear his response but dashed out of there, almost knocking over a mannequin in her rush to get out. He was a pirate, he could very well, find his own way to the docks, she thought as she got in her car and drove away. She went to the Sheriff's department simply because she felt slightly ill at having lied to him.

Emma dropped her head onto the steering wheel. What was she doing? My god, but she was completely nuts. Who would run away from man that looked like he belonged on a billboard peddling designer brands? A man that had changed his very identity out of love, that looked at a woman as if she had hung the stars. Only her.

"Sweetie?" David tapped on her window, looking worried. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah. Fine."

He blinked at her, clearly not believing her. Then invited himself into her car, folding himself in small passenger seat much the same way Killian had done earlier. "What's wrong?"

Emma sighed. "Nothing except that I'm a huge dork. I can't, I just...uggh!"

"Emma, what happened?"

Emma made a face at him. David looked back impassively, his countenance patient and stubborn. He was in dad mode, worried and ready to guide her, and Emma knew David would be relentless in getting to the bottom of what was bothering her. She might just as well tell him, perhaps it would help her place her thoughts in order.

"Killian tried on jeans for me today." Had her voice just cracked? Oh, god, it had. "Sometimes it feels like I'm in my own fairy tale. I'm happy, like really really happy, and yet there's a lingering fear that it'll end. Seeing him in modern clothes, I realized that he's given up everything for me. It's not that I didn't know already. It just, god, he's in my life now, in Henry's, and I'm doing this, with him, and it's so crazy."

"You ran away didn't you?"

"Maybe," Emma whispered, ashamed. "I just left him there and booked. I don't even know why he puts up with all of my neurosis. It's not like I'm the most affectionate girlfriend. I haven't even told him that I love him."

"He knows."

"We don't know that was true love's kiss. Everyone just assumes-I don't know what that was. My magic can be unpredictable. Yes, I kissed him, and yes, he came back, with his hand returned no less… but-"

"I wasn't talking about the kiss though it saddens that after all you've seen, after all you've been through you still find it so hard to believe. I was referring to the way you look at him, the way you light up around him, the way he makes you giggle. He knows, Emma. Everyone knows."

"You've noticed the giggling?" Emma said, cringing at the thought of people noticing her besotted state.

"It's hard not to notice, Emma. You do it so rarely."

Emma sighed deeply. "Sometimes I smile just at the thought of him. For no reason at all. I just remember something he said, or the way he looked at me, or how much I know he loves my son. It makes me smile and I get this feeling," she placed her hand below her chest, "here."

"You're in love, Emma. You wanted normal. This is normal. Enjoy it. Stop worrying so much. He's not leaving you, He's proven it again and again."

"I know. _I know_. I just can't believe it."

Her father didn't say anything, just pulled her over to hold her close. He would never understand, not completely, but that didn't stop him from trying to comfort her. "Thanks, Dad," Emma said, and she could feel how pleased he was by the way he squeezed her harder against him and kissed her forehead.

* * *

A few hours later, embarrassed over her little meltdown she headed to the docks to try to explain. She found him lounging on the deck of his ship, engrossed in a book. He was in jeans and a black t-shirt. He was also wearing shoes. She wondered with a bit of jealousy if the sales associate with the wondering eye and flirty smile had helped him picked the shoes and the shirt.

He looked up from his book just as she came aboard. He welcomed her with a warm smile and got up from his chair to greet her.

"Hey."

"Hello, love."

She stood in front of him awkwardly when he said nothing else. Her hands went to the back pockets of her jeans. "About before," she said, "I had to…run."

He nodded solemnly. Then he pointed to his lips and raised that damnable eyebrow expectantly. She leaned in for a kiss, their usual greeting nowadays, expect this time he didn't let go right away. Instead he pulled her flush against him, kissing the living daylights out of her. "I don't care how often you need to run, Swan. As long you always come back to me." He said against her lips.

"You'll wait for me?"

He nipped her bottom lip playfully. "Always."

There was her heart again, pitter pattering everywhere. He was looking at her with such understanding that it broke her heart. She wanted to give him all he asked with his eyes, but she was afraid she couldn't. "I didn't tell you before; you look good."

He smirked at her. "Do I?"

"You're so vain."

He grinned wider. His hands were resting low on her hips, keeping her close to him, but their hold was gentle giving her the choice to withdraw. Which she usually did. It wasn't that she didn't want him, quite the opposite. It was just too soon, too much. And he never pressured her. Despite his propensity for innuendos, he let her set the pace, always acquiescing to her moods. Really, they had done nothing more than make out like two randy teenagers.

That's exactly how he made her feel, like a teenager in the throes of her first crush. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, kissed him again. He made a noise in his throat that rumbled through his chest and tugged insistently at her lower belly.

"Gods, I love you, Emma," He rasped against her throat, kissing and nipping, taking her breath away. Her sanity. His hands dipped beneath her blouse, touched the skin beneath. Tingles, delicious tingles, shot out every which way. She pulled him closer, tugging at his hair to pull him up to her lips. She kissed him greedily, with teeth and tongue, and desperation. He moaned, twirled her around so her back was against the wall, his thigh firmly planted between hers. The man had more moves than Casanova.

His hands lowered on her hips, squeezing on her bottom, and then he hitched her up. Emma wrapped her legs around him; too bombarded with sensations and love to mind the sinful smile he was gracing her with. She loved him. She loved him so damn much. He carried her to his cabin, whispering all kinds of delicious things against her throat. Telling her how much he loved her, how beautiful she was, how amazing, how much he wanted her, how good she felt against him.

He sat on her his bed, still kissing her, his hands still trailing fire across her skin. Emma took a handful of his shirt and pulled it up roughly. Of course the man was vain, she thought, shifting her gaze from his chest to the trail of hair that led the way down his flat torso and into his jeans. Leanly muscled, with just enough scars to add to his bad boy appeal. He had every right to be vain.

When her eyes returned to his face, she found him smiling at her knowingly. Emma pulled him to the bed, and he laughed at her. He fell back against the bed, letting her straddle him, that stupid shit-eating grin firmly in place. He folded his hand behind his head, waiting expectantly for her next move.

"Women just throw themselves at you, don't they?"

"All but one," his tone was playful, but somehow, it put her back up.

"Is that what I am? A challenge."

His face shuttered, and she knew he had hurt him. What a stupid thing to say. She knew he loved her. He had proven it again and again. Killian loved _her._ There were no doubts about it. Not many. He pushed himself up, dislodging her. He rubbed a hand on his face tiredly.

"I'm sorry," she told him.

He pulled her over to him so her head rested on his warm chest, tucking her beneath his chin. "You know better than that, Swan."

"I'm sorry," she whispered again. His arm wrapped around her back, rubbing gently. It made her want to cry. He wore his heart on his sleeve, was always so open with her, and she… she had knew jerk reactions to playful comments.

"Stop apologizing, love. I get it."

His easy acceptance shamed her. "You get it?"

"You were dealt a bad hand, Swan. I don't blame you for having your guard up. You're accustomed to having people let you down. It will be my pleasure to prove to you that nothing can tear me away from your side. Not even you."

He took her hand, brought it to his lips to kiss. And she melted, completely and utterly against him. She moved up, took his lips in a sweet kiss that she hoped showcased even a smidgen of what she felt for him.

"Sweet, but that's not going to get you back into the path into my trousers. Show a little more enthusiasm. "

Emma laughed at the way his mouth twisted up, at the endearing way his upper teeth protruded just slightly in the absolute cutest overbite she had ever seen. She laughed because he was looking at her with a warm tenderness that never failed to do wonderful things to her insides. She laughed at the wonderful sound of his gravelly voice that grated deliciously low in her belly. "I love you." The words popped out of her mouth out of their own volition.

He straightened, surprise filling his features, not that she paid that much attention, as she was off the bed and close to hyperventilating. Ok, she was being dramatic. Her breath hitched with nerves. Maybe not.

"Emma."

She turned around to face him. He was still in the bed, bare-chested, and leaning back against the bed. He no longer looked surprised, now he was close to cockiness. "Hate to break it to you, love, but it's not exactly a revelation."

"Because of the stupid kiss? Why does everyone assume-"

"Nothing to do with the kiss, darling. You're crazy about me, It's rather obvious."

Emma cocked her head, "Oh, really?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Open book to me, Swan. In any other woman, your smiles and laughter would mean nothing, but in you they shout out your feelings." He was looking quite smug. "That and you're terrified. You wouldn't be so scared if you didn't love me. You would just tell me to bugger off. You never have."

Wow, he knew she loved him because she was afraid of being with him. That was twisted, and wrong, and kind of sad. "I'm sorry."

"Emma, stop bloody apologizing. What's got you all in a dither? We've been through this. We're together, I'm your _boyfriend_. We're _dating_. What's happened, Emma? Tell me what's wrong." He held out his hands for her.

Emma stood up instead. Started pacing in the small cabin. "You in jeans. That's what wrong."

"I thought you said they look good on me," he said affronted.

"They do…would you put your shirt back on? You're distracting me."

The pirate laughed, scratched the back of his ear, but didn't reach for his stupid shirt.

"You think this is funny?"

"Aye."

Emma growled, her sudden anger surging magic through her, making everything light up around her. She blinked, and when her eyes focused again, Killian was now in full pirate gear, rings eyeliner and all.

"Impressive." He said, "you think you can do it in reverse? It can be quite a handy trick."

The man was gorgeous no matter what he wore. With him dressed like this, it felt a little better, a little more familiar. The ache in her heart soothed somewhat.

"You were the one that insisted-"

"I can't think with you around. You're distracting in every which way, and I've started giggling and people have started to notice... and this isn't me. David tells me I should enjoy it, but all I can't think about is how devastated I will be when you leave me-"

"I'm never going to leave you."

"You say that and I know you mean it, but... god, how can you be so sure? How can you just leave everything? How can you change your whole existence? It scares me that I'm so happy, that I'm so in love with you, that I can't see pass my own giddiness. When you came out of the dressing room, looking, god, just perfect, looking normal, it hit me again that you've given up _everything_ for…me. And I… I don't know how to do this."

"You think I've been a boyfriend before? I'm three hundred years old, love, and though I have considerable experience with the fairer sex, let me assure you that dating is not part of my repertoire."

Emma smothered a laugh. She shook her head, wondering how it was possible that he could make her laugh even when she was tense ball of emotion and insecurities. "Be serious."

"I am being serious, darling," he stood up, swaggered up to her, invading her personal space. "I'm new at this, be gentle."

She rolled her eyes, pushed him away gently.

"You're not fooling me, princess. You love me."

"You bug me." He gave her a cocky smile, making her head spin. In a second he was shirtless again, though his leather pants remained. His lips formed an even cockier smile, if that was possible. She pushed him back until he fell back on the bed. "I love you, Killian." It did get easier to say.

"I know." He took her wrist and pulled her roughly to him. Kissed her until she was out of breath. He released her, panting as loudly at her. "This dating ritual of yours will be the death of me."

He was trying so hard to integrate into her life. Driving lessons from David, pop culture lessons from Henry, reading materials from Mary Margaret. All for her. She feared she wasn't worth the trouble. That one day he would come to regret it. That he would tire of her constant and pathetic need of reassurances. She pushed the thoughts away, having enough of a roller coaster ride of emotions for one day. How many times could she ask him to repeat himself?

"You're not a lost girl anymore," he said, as if reading her thoughts. "You have a family now with your parents and your brother. And I would hope that you know you're building another one with Henry… and with me. No matter what happens you won't be alone again."

"You sound like David."

"You hero types must be rubbing off on me." He brought her over to sit on his lap. Kissed the tip of her nose.

"Who would have thought that Captain Hook would make the perfect boyfriend?" Again, the words came out without thought. But he was perfect, sweet and thoughtful and patient.

Pleased, the pirate smirked. "Swan, care to return my shirt? Or perhaps take yours off? I'm feeling a bit exposed, perhaps if we were on equal footing-" She didn't give him back his, she magicked away her own.

"What did I tell you? Handy trick you've mastered, Savior," he said thickly.

It was nice to catch him off guard, more often it was she who stumbled and stuttered, who blushed like a love struck girl. He didn't touch her though, only stared reverently at her, his eyes going dark with lust

"You can touch me."

"Do you want me to?"

"I thought you could read me like an open book?"

He scratched the back of his ear. "I can, but should I have indulged you every time you gave me the come-hither look, well, love, you wouldn't have made it down that beanstalk for hours."

"Oh, you, seriously? How much stroking does your ego need?"

"You're welcome to stroke any part of me you wish."

She had fallen straight into that one. "Shut up."

"As you wish, my lady."

He didn't shut up, not for a little more than a second. Between kisses and sighs and moans, he told her he would never leave her. Again and again he told her that he loved her. She made him promise that he would stay with her no matter what, and he grunted it out as he slid into her. She could feel his devotion, how much he wanted to make her believe. In him. In them. She forgot all about her fears and insecurities. She could only feel him.

When she woke the next morning, wrapped in his arms, deliciously sated, her first instinct was to run, to doubt. She tampered the urge down, and to her surprise, it was a little easier to do than the previous day. She settled back against his body, cuddling into his embrace. Maybe the next day would be easier still.

The End


End file.
